Random Requirements: The Philosopher's Stone
by AranelLalaith
Summary: A group of bored fifth year Slytherins ask for something to do whilst sat in the room of requirement. When the room provides them with an unusual insight into the life of their enemy Harry Potter... full summary inside.
1. Prologue

Random Requirements: The Philosopher's Stone

A/N. I uploaded this, and another Harry Potter story, quite a long time ago but I deleted it because I never had chance to update. Hopefully I will be able to keep up with updated this time!

Summary: A group of bored fifth year Slytherins ask for something to do whilst sat in the room of requirement. When the room provides them with an unusual insight into the life of their enemy Harry Potter will they just get some laughs out of it or can it help them to see, from a whole other perspective, not just Harry but the entire wizarding world?

Rating: K (or whatever rating you would give Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone)

Pairings: None (although if you squint you might just about see a hint of Blaise/Hermione or Pansy/Harry but if you don't like those pairings then don't worry. Just refrain from squinting.)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter. That includes characters, places, plots or anything else you can think of. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling. This disclaimer is for all chapters of this story, please don't sue me!

P: Pansy Parkinson

B: Blaise Zabini

D: Draco Malfoy

**Harry Potter and a Little Back Dog called Bloomsbury**

**Draco Malfoy was bored. Completely and utterly bored. Infact he was-**

D: I'm so bored!

**Thank you for proving our point Draco, so as I was saying, Draco was bored and was sat on a sofa in the room of requirment.**

B: I know, I'm bored too. I can't believe we have stay at school in the Christmas holidays!

**Maybe I should take a step backwards and start by explaining why our favourite Slytherins are sat in the room of requirement. It's the second day of the Christmas holidays and most of the students have gone home to spend sometime with their family over the festive season. Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and, for some unknown reason, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree (they have been informed that tomorrow they shall be joined by three hens from Beauxbatons) are however exceptions to this rule. There are many possible reasons for this, the most probable being that they're parents are busy working for some evil dark wizard whose name happens to be an anagram of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Although that's just one theory.**

**Anyway, carrying on, they had there breakfast in the Great Hall then decided, as it was too cold to venture outside into the grounds, that they did not particularly want to spend the day in the cold, uncomfortable common room and therefore opted to seek refuge in the room of requirement which was guaranteed to assume the type of warm, comfortable room that they... yep, you guessed it, required.**

B: Hang on, if were all so bored then why don't we just ask the room for something interesting to do?

D: What shall we ask for?

B: Erm, I don't know, I can't think of anything.

P: I think we should do exactly what Blaise said to do.

D: Huh? All he said was 'I can't think of anything' how does that help us?

P: Nooo, I mean, Blaise said to ask the room for 'something interesting to do' so why not just ask for that. Something interesting to do. That way we don't have to waste time trying to think of something.

B: Pansy, for once, I think you actually just made sense.

P: Why, how charming, you really know how to flatter a girl Blaise.

B: Methinks I detect a hint of sarcasm dearest Pansy

P: Oh, just shut up.

B,P & D: "We need something interesting to do!"

**Suddenly, a book appears on the table in front of them.**

D: Oh great, a book, yippee! Urgh, stupid room. What makes it think we want to read?

P: Maybe we should try it, I mean the room seems to think we'll enjoy it.

B: Yeah, I suppose it's worth a try.

**Draco picks up the book and looks at the front cover. Blaise and Pansy, sat on either side of him, shift closer and look at it as well.**

D: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, J.K. Rowling.

P: Well, I suppose J.K. Rowling is the author. But as for the title, I mean, I know there are lots of mentions of the Chosen Zero in history books, but this looks completely different.

D: Look at the pictures, that's the Hogwarts express at platform nine and three quarters.

B: Is that supposed to be Potter? It looks nothing like him. For one thing, his hairs black and messy. The guy in the pictures got brown hair, in a parting.

P: I know, and why would he be wearing a Gryffindork scarf? The stone thing was in first year wasn't it? So in that picture he wouldn't even be sorted yet.

**The Slytherins carry on looking at the cover for a few moments before turning over to look at the back.**

P: Who on earth is that picture of?

D: I don't know, it sorta looks like Dumbledore I suppose but other than that I don't have a clue.

**Harry Potter thinks he is an ordinary boy**

D: Nope, believe me, he is in no way normal.

**until he is rescued by a beetle-eyed giant of a man,**

P: Hey, that sounds like Hagrid!

**enrols at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,**

B: Try telling us something we don't know

**learns to play Quidditch-**

B: I repeat, tell us something we don't know

**-and does battle in a deadly duel.**

P: Okay, so, it seems like you can now communicate with books Blaise because that is something I most certainly did not know

D: Duh, Pansy, 'and the Philosophers Stone' it means when he went and got the philosopher's stone

P: Oh, well, I didn't know that. You never know, it could mean something different."

**The Reason: HARRY POTTER IS A WIZARD!**

B: Shock! Horror! Harry Potter? Wizard? I simply don't believe it! Lies! Lies! It's all lies! Oh... wait a minute... no... actually... I knew that.

P: Oh shut up Blaise

**Acclaim for Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone:**

**"This is a story full of surprises and jokes; comparisons with Dahl are, this time, justified." The Sunday Times**

D: What's 'Dahl'?

B: I don't know, but I'm guessing its a book seeing as though its this books comparable to it.

**"... Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone has all the makings of a classic ... Rowling uses classic narrative devices with flair and originality and delivers a complex and demanding plot in the form of a hugely entertaining thriller. She is a first rate writer for children." The Scotsman**

P: That's a bit general. 'The Scotsman' I mean come on, there must be lots and lots of scots...erm...men but give us a clue to which one.

**"A richly textured first novel given lift off by an inventive wit" The Gaurdian**

P: Is it just me or does it seem like these quotes are written as if the story is something that this Rowling persons made up?"

D: I know, it seems like they're giving this 'Rowling' credit for the story. But surely he's just the person who wrote about it. What happened is actual fact."

B: What does the stuff in the little white box mean?"

P: I don't know, the little black dogs cute though, why has it got a little arrow in its mouth. And look, there a word underneath it: 'Bloomsbury' what do you suppose that means?"

D: Maybe the dogs called Bloomsbury, but as for the arrow I really don't have a clue."

B: Hmmm, Harry Potter and a Little Black Dog called Bloomsbury. Has a nice ring to it."

D: Okay, so I've come to the conclusion that the first page is boring. The title and the Hogwart's crest. Tres insteresting... not!"

B: Actually, its got the motto to 'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus'"

P: Yeah, I've never actually got that. Why is our motto 'never tickle a sleeping dragon'?"

D: It used to be 'Per veneficus nos es intemporaliter iunctus' but when Dumbledore became the headmaster he changed it to that."

P: Awww, the next page in the same apart from Bloomsbury's back again on this page!"

B: Wait, look on the other side of the page. There's a list of other books."

D: 'Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets' 'Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban' and 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' they must be about second, third and fourth year."

P: Okay, this page is the dedication, skip that it's boring. Oh! Now we get to the good stuff!"

B: Chapter one, 'The Boy Who Lived'

D: Urgh, here we go. Barely even started the book and its already singing his praises!"

**END**

P.S. Next chapter dedication to the first person who can tell me what " Per veneficus nos es intemporaliter iunctus" means! Be warned that it can have a few different meanings though so if it doesn't make sense it probably isn't the right one!


	2. Chapter 1

Random Requirements: The Philosopher's Stone

Summary: A group of bored fifth year Slytherins ask for something to do whilst sat in the room of requirement. When the room provides them with an unusual insight into the life of their enemy Harry Potter will they just get some laughs out of it or can it help them to see, from a whole other perspective, not just Harry but the entire wizarding world?

Rating: K (or whatever rating you would give Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone)

Pairings: None (although if you squint you might just about see a hint of Blaise/Hermione or Pansy/Harry but if you don't like those pairings then don't worry. Just refrain from squinting.)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter. That includes characters, places, plots or anything else you can think of. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling. This disclaimer is for all chapters of this story, please don't sue me!

P: Pansy Parkinson

B: Blaise Zabini

D: Draco Malfoy

**- CHAPTER ONE -**

**The Boy Who Lived**

**Mr and Mrs Dursley-**

P: who are they?

B: I don't know, does it really matter, I'm sure we'll find out if we just carry on reading.

D: but what if they're muggles? They sound like muggles and I don't want to read a story about some stupid muggles!"

B: I'm sure they're not muggles, the stories about Scar Head so I don't think its about muggles"

P: Yeah, and even if they are muggles, the titles about the philosophers stone, which means its got to be about our first year, so the whole story isn't going to be about these Dursley people."

D: Okay, Okay, lets just get on with it"

**-of Privet Drive were proud to say that they were perfectly normal thank you very much.**

P: Stuck up much? Who goes round saying -I'm perfectly normal thank you very much- its just conceited"

D: Conceited? You can talk Pansy. I-"

B: Urgh, just shut up. Both of you, I want to read the book"

**They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just wouldn't hold with such nonsense. Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings which made drills.**

B: What are 'drills'? They definitely must be muggles. I'm sure that wizards don't have anything called drills."

P: I know, and what's a 'firm'? and why' it called 'Grunnings' that's a bit of a silly name isn't it?"

D: Oh, I know what drills are. We learnt about them in muggles studies. The Professor said they were part of a dangerous muggle ritual called 'DIY' that men participate in to prove how tough they are. But then little miss Golden Gryffindork got up and started going on about how it wasn't a sport it was a-"

B: Hang on... Muggle Studies? You? You kept that one quiet. Why did you take that"

P: Ha Ha, Drakie, in muggle studies. Wait till I tell Daphne, she'll-"

D: Oh shut up! Father said I had to take it so that I could 'see from my enemies point of view' its not like I actually enjoy it! Anyway, aren't you the one who wanted to read the book Blaise... just shut up."

**He was a big beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs Dursley was thin and blond and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning her neck over garden fences spying on neighbours. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.**

P: Hang on a sec, he's got no neck and she's got twice the amount of neck. Am I the only one who think that's a little bit more than a coincidence? What did she do... steal his neck or something"

B: Maybe, I heard this thing about muggles who've lost they're leg sowing it back on or something like that. Maybe they cut his neck of and sowed it on top of hers. God, muggles are gruesome things!"

D: I don't think that would work somehow Blaise"

B: Whatever, its still a cool idea, well, not cool exactly but... oh well"

**The Dursleys had everything they ever wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.**

P: Oh, the Potters! See I knew that it wouldn't all be about the Dursleys! Harry lives with his aunt and uncle doesn't he, maybe that's the Dursleys. Oh, poor him, I mean the Dursleys seem like awful people"

D: Pansy, I can't believe I'm hearing this. You actually feel sorry for 'The Boy who refuses to do us all a favour and die'?"

P: Oh shut up, I just meant I didn't like the Dursleys that's all"

**Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursleys sister,**

P: See! I told you"

D: Yippee. She's the Mudblood's sister. Who cares?"

B: You shouldn't use that word. It's not very nice"

D: What word?"

B: Mud erm... Blood"

D: Since when have you cared about being nice?"

P: Wait a minute. Harry's mum is a mud- I mean a muggle born?"

D: God, why all of a sudden do you have a problem with the word mudblood. And yes, Pansy you idiot, of course she's a 'muggle born'"

**but they hadn't met for several years; in fact Mrs Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish-**

B: UnDursleyish? Somehow I get the feeling that's not exactly a real word"

**-as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son too,**

P: Oh! That'll be Harry"

B: Yes that will be- hang on a minute 'Harry' your on first name basis with him since when?"

**Pansy blushed in response.**

**but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that. When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work-**

D: Why would you pick out your most boring tie? Unless it's this 'Rowling's' opinion of his tie and how would he know that that one was his most boring tie unless he'd analysed all of his tie's and then made his decision on which one was most boring"

P: His? How do you know that Rowling is a man? It could be a woman. I think she writes more like a woman. I-"

B: God! Will both of you just shut up! And Drake, does it really matter how he knew the tie was his most boring"

P: There you go again! All assuming that Rowling is a man. Its-"

B&D: Shut up!"

**-and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.**

**At half past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls "Little tyke" chortled Mr Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realise what he had seen -then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat-**

B: A tabby cat reading a map. That's got to be McGonagall."

**-standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - No, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.**

P: McGonagall could though"

**Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove towards town, he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.**

D: And what is so strange about cloaks?"

P: I know! I don't understand muggles. I mean come on, how can they think what we wear is weird compared to what they go around wearing. Its ridiculous."

B: I don't know. Some muggle clothes look good. I mean if you remember what Granger was wearing last time we saw them on a the train, she looked kinda-"

P: Kinda what! not nice surely! I can't believe you thought she looked nice she looked like a-"

B: Oh get over it, I was gonna say okay- not nice. I just meant that she looks better in muggle clothes than she does at school. I don't think she looks nice okay!"

D: Oooh, looks like we hit a touchy subject there, eh Blaisey?"

B: Oh shut up. I don't fancy beaver teeth okay."

P: Beaver Teeth, good one Blaise"

**Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the get-ups you saw on young people!" He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes-**

P: Huh, charming. Weirdoes? He's got some nerve"

**-standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something ... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills.**

B: Of course they're not all young. That's because they're wizards and witches you idiot. And why would they be collecting for something?"

**Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though the people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night time. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled a five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunch-time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the baker's opposite. He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying. "The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard -"**

**"- yes, their son, Harry -"**

P: Hey, you don't suppose this is before the Dark Lord tried to kill Harry do you?"

D: I don't know, why?"

P: Well, it's just before they said the reason Mrs. Dursley didn't see her sister was because they didn't get along. Surely it would have mention if she was dead and-"

B: Oh yeah, and the people there where talking about 'the Potters' and their son. Not just Harry Potter"

D: Yeah, and I suppose it did say that the Potters had a 'small son' which would mean pothead could still be a baby"

**Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking... No, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry.**

P: Yes, but how many Harry Potter's are people in so called 'weird' cloaks gonna talk about? If they're wizards or witches then of course they're talking about 'the boy who lived' 'specially seeing as though that's the name of the chapter"

**Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.**

D: Nope. Believe me, he's definitely called Harry"

**There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that... -but all the same, those people in cloaks... He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door. "Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare: "Don't be sorry my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!-**

P: Oh My God. So this is when the Dark Lord has just killed the Potters!"

B: Yeah, we were half right about it being before Potter's parents died"

D: That must be why there were so many wizards about, dressed normally in plain view of muggles"

B: I've just realised something. You know how Mr. Dursley was talking about that cat reading the map earlier. Well, suppose that really was McGonagall... suppose she was there to give Potter to his Aunt and Uncle."

P: Oh yeah! That would be why the story starts off by talking about them!"

D: Lets just carry on and find out"

**-Even Muggles like your self should be celebrating this happy, happy day!"**

B: That's true I suppose. The Dark Lord being 'killed' would be a good thing for muggles"

**And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off. Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was.**

P: Its someone who has no magic, you idiot!"

B: You know, he can't hear you Pansy"

P: So, he's still an idiot."

**He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.**

D: This guy really is a freak. Even for a muggle I mean. How can you not approve of imagination? It's not exactly something you can help"

**As he pulled into the driveway at number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. "Shoo!"-**

B: Ha ha. Boy, McGonagall mustn't have liked that. Can you imagine her face if we tried telling her to 'shoo'?

**-said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr. Dursley wondered?**

P: Nope, but it's not a normal cat. It's an animagus, Professor McGonagall to be precise."

B: Again, he can't hear you Pansy."

P: Oh just shut up."

**Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter**

D: They weren't joking when they said she was nosy"

P: When did they say that?"

B: They didn't actually say it I don't think. But they implied it when they said something like she used her long neck to look at the neighbours"

**and how Dudley had learnt a new word (Shan't). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:**

**"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern."**

B: Duh, It's because of the Dark Lord and the Potters. Lots of people will be sending each other owls."

D: Muggles don't send owls though. They have this thing called a 'toast box' that you put the letter in and it takes it to the person"

P: It's called a toast box? Are you sure? That doesn't sound right"

D: Of course I'm sure, I take muggle studies don't I?"

B: Yeah, but Granger said that most of the stuff they teach you in muggle studies is actually wrong like when-"

D: So, not only do you think Granger looks nice, you've also been having cosy chats with her about muggle studies?"

B: I haven't been talking to her! But you said earlier that Granger got up in muggle studies to correct the Professor"

P: Yeah, but she does that in every class."

**The news reader allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?" "Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain that I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars!**

D: That'll be filbuster's fireworks. Some of them look a bit like shooting stars"

**Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early- It's not until next week, folks!**

P: What's bonfire night?"

D: t's this muggle thing where they have fireworks and a really big fire where they burn stuff. They usually put a person on top of the fire. "

B: A person on top of the fire! What! You mean they actually burn someone. Like in the witch burnings in History Of Magic? That's... so... so... barbaric!"

P: Well what so you expect? I mean... they are muggles."

D: Urgh, no, I don't mean they actually kill a real person. They burn this dummy sort of thing that looks like a person"

B: Well, that's better, but to be honest it's still not a particularly nice thing to do"

P: Well, I don't suppose muggles would think that wizard's coming and Avada Kedavra-ing them to death is a 'particularly nice thing to do' but hey, that's life. You win some, you lose some."

**But I can promise a wet night tonight." Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...Mrs. Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?" As he expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.**

B: That's just really childish. You don't like someone therefore you pretend they don't exist."

**"No," she said sharply. "Why?" "Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..." "So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley. "Well, I just thought... maybe ... it was something to do with ... you know ... her lot."**

D: Her lot? I suppose by that she mean's wizards and witches. Just for the record Dursley, we hate 'your lot' too incase you were wondering!"

**Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name 'Potter'. He decided he didn't dare.**

B: He sounds like a bit of a wimp if you ask me"

P: I know, he can't even tell his wife that he heard the name Potter"

D: I don't know, this woman sounds pretty scary and she obviously doesn't like the Potters. Maybe she'd like, go ballistic at him for mentioning it. I wouldn't mess with a woman that stole my neck."

**Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son - he'd be about Dudley's age now wouldn't he?" "I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly. "What's his name again? Howard isn't it?" "Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."**

D: Ha ha ha ha ha"

**"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree." He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the-**

D: Ha ha ha ha ha."

P: What?"

D: Nothing... ha ha ha"

**-bathroom, Mr. Dursley-**

D: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha"

**-crept to the bedroom-**

D: Blaise? (He laughed)

B: What?"

D: Ha ha ha ha"

B: What! (He yelled, obviously confused)

D: It's just... ha ha... it's just that. YOU THINK GRANGER'S PRETTY!"

B: WHAT! NO I DO NOT!"

D: Yes you do... when I said ' not only do you think Granger looks nice, you've also been having cosy chats with her about muggle studies ' you said that you haven't been talking to her. But you never said you didn't think she looked nice"

B: Oh shut up. That goes with out saying you idiot. Now lets carry on with the story."

**-window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it was waiting for something. Was he imagining things? The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley.**

P: Well, if McGonagall's there to bring Harry to them then they're obviously going to be annoyed. Especially as we know that they're gonna end up taking care of him till he comes to Hogwarts.

B: That's a good point. They hate magic so why did they let Harry come to Hogwarts?"

D: I suppose we'll find out later on in the book. Speaking of which, we should really be getting on with"

**The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind-**

B: Ahem, excuse me. Their kind? I suppose they mean people who are able to do magic. What exactly do they have against us?"

P: What do we have against them? And we, or rather our parents I suppose, go around killing people like them just for living."

D: What do we have against them?What do we have against them... I can't believe you'd even ask that question Pansy! I mean they... Well they erm... You know they're..."

B: Actually, that's a good question. What exactly do we have against them? I mean, I don't like the Dursleys but there are wizards that I don't like, it doesn't give us a reason to hate all muggles."

D: I can't believe you to are actually debating whether or not we should hate muggles. It's ridiculous."

**... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on. He yawned and turned over. It couldn't affect them ... How very wrong he was. Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed in the next street, nor when the two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all. A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground.-**

B: Sounds like he apparated."

D: Yeah, to a muggle that would be like popping out of the ground"

P: So, you reckon this Rowling person's a muggle then?"

D: I'm not sure but it sounds like the book's written for muggles. But they don't believe in magic so they must think it's some sort of made up story about a wizard."

**-The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had been seen in Privet Drive. He was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots.**

D: Sound's like Dumbledore"

**His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.**

B: Yep definitely Dumbledore"

**This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.**

P: Erm... If anyone's bothered, I agree that it's Dumbledore."

D: Urgh, Pansy you are an idiot"

**Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realise that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realise he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him.**

P: That's because he's seen the cat, and he knows it's Professor McGonagall"

**He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known." He had found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.**

B: Wow, cool. I didn't know there was something that could do that. Actually what is that, A street lamp I mean. And how exactly would it 'go out'"

D: Blaise! Your unbelievable. You don't know what something is, yet you can still think it's cool. A street lamp is a massive tall candle that's stuck to the ground and when it goes dark they light it so that you can see in the streets."

P: Yeah, and they use this special thing call 'Ellrickitty' to light it."

**He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left in the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even the beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak,-**

D: Of course she's wearing a cloak. What else do you expect her to wear. Not muggle clothes surely

**-an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?"**

B: Oh come on Professor. Even we could tell who you were."

P: Aha! This I my chance to point out to you that she can't hear you Blaise."

B: Okay, okay, I'll give you that one"

**she asked. "My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly." "You'd be stiff too if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall. "All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here." Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles noticed something's going on. It was on their news."**

D: Don't worry. They'll never work it out. Even if someone was crucio-ing them they'd insist it was all a dream."

**She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls ... shooting stars ... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense." "You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years." "I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes swapping rumours." She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on: "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all.**

D: Like I said, they'll never find out about magic. Seriously, most of them would rather send them self to a place for mental people rather than admit that they saw magic"

P: Institution"

D: What did you just call me!"

B: No, an institution. It's what muggles call a place for mental people. A mental institution"

**I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?" "It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?" "A what?" "A sherbet lemon. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of." "No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for sherbet lemons. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -" "My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like your self can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort". Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was un-sticking two sherbet lemons, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's Name." "I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half-exasperated, half-admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the one You-Know - oh, all right, Voldemort -was frightened of." "You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have." "Only because you're too - well - noble to use them." "It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."**

P: Ewww, that is something I don't wanna know!"

B: I'm not sure which is worse, The idea of Dumbledore with Madam Pomfrey, or with Professor McGonagall"

**Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"**

D: This is when Pothead and the Potters come into it"

**It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbet lemon and did not answer. "What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters.**

D: The Potters used to live in Godric's Hollow? That's where you've just moved to isn't it Pansy?"

P: Oh yes, its dreadful. They've left the house exactly how it was when the Dark Lord killed them so its a ruin. There's a little plaque on it dedicated to them"

**The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're – dead." Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. "Lily and James ... I can't believe it ... I didn't want to believe it ... Oh, Albus ..." Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know ... I know ..." he said heavily. Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. "But - he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone."**

D: Yes, yes, we get it. The Boy who refuses to die. Yippee! Good for him"

**Dumbledore nodded glumly. "It's - it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done ... all the people he's killed ... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding ...of all the things to stop him ... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?" "We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know." Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took out a watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"**

B: Okay, why are all the teachers gathering outside the Dursley's"

P: I suppose Hagrid must be bringing Harry."

**"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?" "I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now." You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore - you can't." I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us.**

D: I totally agree. I wouldn't leave a baby with them, even if it is just Potter"

**And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!" "It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter." "A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in future**

B: Erm, no. No Harry Potter day. That would just be wrong. So, so wrong. Besides, its already Halloween so you can't call it something else."

**- there will be books written about Harry - every child in our world will know his name!"**

P: Yep, they got that one right"

**"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?" Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it. "Hagrid's bringing him."**

D: Hagrid? They're going trust that oaf with a baby. At this rate Potter's never gonna make it to Hogwarts. They're putting him in the care of Hagrid, then the Dursleys!"

**"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"**

D: See even McGonagall agrees with me!"

P: Awww, I never knew Harry meant so much to you Drakie"

D: You know what I meant! I meant that I wouldn't trust that oaf Hagrid. Not that I think Ha—Potter's important!"

**"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore. "I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?" A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of dustbin lids and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.**

P: Ooh! A baby Harry!"

**"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorbike?" "Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it me. I've got him, sir."**

D: Isn't Sirius Black a deatheater?"

B: Yeah, I thought he escaped from Azkaban in third year."

P: Well, The Golden Trio think he's innocent so maybe he wasn't actually a deatheater"

**"No problems, were there?" "No, sir - house was almost destroyed but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol." Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. "Is that where - ?" whispered Professor McGonagall.**

D: Huh, get over it people. So he's got a scar. So have lots of people, it's not such a big deal."

**"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar for ever." "Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" "Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground.**

B: What's the London underground"

D: Dunno mate, haven't learnt about anything called that yet but I'll let you know if I ever find out."

**Well - give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned towards the Dursleys' house. "Could I - could I say goodbye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss.**

P: Urgh, a kiss from Hagrid. Now there's something I could most definitely live without"

**Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.**

B: He'll wake up the Dursleys like that"

**"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall. "You'll wake the Muggles!"**

B: That's what I said."

**"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -" "Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously-**

P: I don't believe it! Professor McGonagall about to cry!"

**-and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out. "Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations." "Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice. "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back.**

B: No you won't. He'll be killing Pettigrew or going to Azkaban right now"

**G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir." Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night. "I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,"**

D: Oh yeah, he'll see her at Hogwarts after the holidays"

**said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.**

**"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak he was gone. A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream-**

P: That can't be pleasant"

B: I know, just what you want when your parents have just died. To be woken up by a screaming muggle."

**-as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley**

D: Oh, I forgot about him. He sounds annoying... he's the same age as Potter. Do you reckon they'll be friends?"

B: I dunno. I suppose we'll find out. I don't think so though. If he's anything like his parents, Dudley will probably bully Harry"

**...He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter - the boy who lived!"**

D: Okay, that's the end of the chapter"

P: What's the next one called?"

B: It's called 'The Vanishing Glass', what do you think it could be about?"

P: Haven't got a clue"

D: Me either, but I'm sure we'll find out soon enough."

**END**

A/N. So, what did you think. They weren't too out of character were they? As for the disclaimer, I think I need to mention that a lot of this story it text taken directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J. K. Rowling and I absolutely so not own it. Anything in bold writing is nothing to do with me and I'm just borrowing it for my story.


	3. Chapter 2

Random Requirements: The Philosopher's Stone

Summary: A group of bored fifth year Slytherins ask for something to do whilst sat in the room of requirement. When the room provides them with an unusual insight into the life of their enemy Harry Potter will they just get some laughs out of it or can it help them to see, from a whole other perspective, not just Harry but the entire wizarding world?

Rating: K (or whatever rating you would give Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone)

Pairings: None (although if you squint you might just about see a hint of Blaise/Hermione or Pansy/Harry but if you don't like those pairings then don't worry. Just refrain from squinting.)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter. That includes characters, places, plots or anything else you can think of. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling. This disclaimer is for all chapters of this story, please don't sue me!

A/N: Right, GCSE's (and school, for that matter) are over, and it's summer so I'm really going to actually get somewhere with this story now methinks!

Lalaith xx

Reviewers:

_fluffybunny too: _Thanks for the time-saving tip! And, I've changed the layout of the story now, so hopefully it will be a little clearer who is saying what

_Kiryn: _*blushes* thankyou for your lovely review! And, I know what you mean about the characters. They're not exactly in character, but I imagine that this is how they'd react if they were by themselves :)

_Riddles of the Werewolf: _Thankyou! I don't know why I didn't think of doing it that way to start with... *sigh* I'm so stupid xD

Thanks to: _Sololight, Lilly, murdrax, LilyCalliePotter, Hahukum Konn, glistening moon _and _twinklinghazeleyes_

P: Pansy Parkinson

B: Blaise Zabini

D: Draco Malfoy

**- CHAPTER TWO -**

**The Vanishing Glass**

B: Hurry up and sit down! I wanna find out what happens next...

P: It's not Drake's fault he needed the toilet Blaise, Merlin!

**Nearly ten years had passed-**

D: Whoa, wait a minute! You can't just skip over TEN years... that's about two thirds of my life so far, and this Rowling person thinks it's okay to just ignore it completely!

P: Merlin's beard Drake, the story's about our first year at Hogwart's, so I'm pretty sure the book would be way to long if they wasted time telling us about the whole ten years...

D: Still...

**-since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been-**

B: Is it just me, or does the fact that it's 'hardly changed' and is 'almost exactly the same' seem to translate as 'BORING'?

**-on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago,-**

D: Ten years... ten years!

B: Get over it already!

**-there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets-**

P: *giggle*

B: Certainly paints a flattering picture doesn't it *hehe*

**-— but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy-**

D: So, he's fat... there's another thing that hasn't changed in ten years, haha.

**-riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father,-**

B: Okaaaay, so many things in that sentence that went straight over my head...

P: Care to explain a 'bi-kye-kul' a 'karo-oo-sell' or a 'kom-poo-tair' to us Mr. Superior Muggle Knowledge?

D: I'll take it that means me Pans? Well, first of all they're pronounced 'bicycle' and 'computer'. A bicycle is like a broom for muggles. It doesn't fly though-

B: A broom that doesn't fly? That's ludicrous, preposterous...

D: AS I WAS SAYING... anyway, I have no idea what a 'karo-oo-sell' is, but a computer is a little box filled with lots of zeros and ones... at least the professor said *something* like that... I didn't really pay attention... but I have no clue how you'd go about playing a game with one at any rate-

B: EVIL!

P: What the...

B: Bicycle's... evil! I declare the my sworn enemy, and vow to destroy any I happen to come across-

D: You don't even know what they look like!

P: *sigh* Oh, just ignore him, for Salazar's sake!

**-being hugged and kissed by his mother.**

D: Hahaha, Mummy's boy!

P: Say's you.

D: What's that supposed to mean!

**-The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.-**

B: you'd think after ten years they's have taken at least one picture of Pothead.

**-Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.**

**Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.**

**"Up!" she screeched.-**

B: Not a nice way to start the day.

P: *giggle*

D: What's with you?

P: Blaise just rhymed...

B: *rolls eyes* girls!

P: Hey!

**-Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove.**

P: Well... she may not have woken him up nicely, but at least she's making a nice breakfast for him... they might be nicer than I thought.

D: I always knew the Chosen Dork got brought up being treated like royalty...

**-He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it.-**

B: It's not a dream!

**-He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.-**

P: That's because it's not a dream!

B: Yeah, just copy what I said. That's fine. I don't mind.

D: Oh shut up, both of you. He can't hear you!

**-His aunt was back outside the door.**

**"Are you up yet?" she demanded.**

**"Nearly," said Harry.**

**"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon.-**

P: Well, there goes the illusion that THEY were making HIM breakfast.

B: I couldn't make toast for myself when I was eleven! Never mind make bacon...

P: Drake, of course, STILL can't make himself toast...

D: Hey! I resent that!

B: Ah, but you don't deny it *smirks*

D: *glares at Blaise*

**-And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."**

**Harry groaned.**

**"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.-**

P: Geez, she is one bossy, controlling woman!

D: Sounds like someone we know...

P: Who?

B: *cough*Pansy*cough*

P: HEY! I'm not bossy-

D: ANYWAY... lets just carry on reading!

P: Not until Blaise admits that I'm NOT bossy!

**-"Nothing, nothing…"**

**Dudley's birthday — how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider-**

P: Ew! I hate spiders... how can he sleep in a room with a spider?

D: That, Pansy, is because us guys aren't scared of silly little things like spiders.

P: Well, that's good.

D: Why?

P: Well, you wont be bothered by the one on your shoulder...

D: *screams like a girl* Get it off me! Get it off me!

B: Man, I can't believe you fell for that one Drake.

**-off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.-**

P: That's... that's barbaric! How can they treat someone like that?

D: Merlin, you sound like granger when she's mouthing off about spew.

B: It's S.P.E.W. It's actually quite a good idea...mum alway's treats our house elves with respect, it stands for the Society for the Prot-

D: BLAISE! I DON'T care... and you shouldn't either! If Snape could here you now...

_***!A/N! Okay, so this is as far as I've got up to, the rest is just the original chapter. I will take out this author's note when I upload the completed chapter (Hopefully tomorrow) but right now, I'm too tired to type anymore! !A/N!***_

**-When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike.**

**Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise — unless of course it involved punching somebody.**

**Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast.**

**Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age.**

**He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobby knees, black hair,**

**and bright green eyes.**

**He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning.**

**He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.**

**"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said.**

**Don't ask questions — that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.**

**Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.**

**About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way — all over the place.**

**Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head.**

**Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel — Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.**

**Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.**

**"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."**

**"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."**

**"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.**

**Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"**

**Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty… thirty…"**

**"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.**

**"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."**

**Uncle Vernon chuckled.**

**"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.**

**At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR.**

**He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.**

**"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him."**

**She jerked her head in Harry's direction.**

**Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.**

**"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.**

**"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.**

**"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."**

**The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there — or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.**

**"What about what's-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?"**

**"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.**

**"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).**

**Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.**

**"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.**

**"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "… and leave him in the car…"**

**"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone…"**

**Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying — it had been years since he'd really cried — but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.**

**"Dinky Duddydums,**

**don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.**

**"I… don't… want… him… t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.**

**Just then, the doorbell rang — "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically — and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother.**

**Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.**

**Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.**

**"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy — any funny business, anything at all — and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."**

**"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly…"**

**But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.**

**The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.**

**Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses.**

**Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off.**

**He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.**

**Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls).**

**The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry.**

**Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.**

**On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney.**

**The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trashcans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.**

**But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.**

**While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.**

**"… roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.**

**"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."**

**Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"**

**Dudley and Piers sniggered.**

**"I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."**

**But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon — they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas.**

**It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop.**

**It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.**

**Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him.**

**They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.**

**Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last.**

**After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can — but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.**

**Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.**

**"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.**

**"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.**

**"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.**

**Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.**

**The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.**

**It winked.**

**Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.**

**The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:**

**"I get that all the time."**

**"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."**

**The snake nodded vigorously.**

**"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.**

**The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.**

**Boa Constrictor, Brazil.**

**"Was it nice there?"**

**The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see — so you've never been to Brazil?"**

**As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"**

**Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.**

**"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor.**

**What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.**

**Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished.**

**The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.**

**As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come… Thanksss, amigo."**

**The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.**

**"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"**

**The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?".**

**Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go — cupboard — stay — no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.**

**Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.**

**He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn't remember being in the car when his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead.**

**This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn't remember his parents at all.**

**His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.**

**When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened;**

**the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too.**

**A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look.**

**At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.**


End file.
